For King and Country
by kel25
Summary: What started as a writing workshop exercise turned into a multi-chapter request by a friend. This has elements of both the movie AND the book (which you should read!), plus a few characters I have added. This is what if Captain Nicholls was only wounded in the charge and was captured by the Germans. In a German hospital, he meets a nurse who will help plan his escape.
1. Chapter 1

James lay on his back staring at the shadows on the ceiling. In the morning they would be shipping off to the countryside to train the Calvary. His Calvary. Well, it was more like the Major's, but most of it was under his command.

Nervous, that was the feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. He had never commanded troops before. He was only twenty-six. But because his father was a high and mighty lord, he had been given the title of Captain and shipped off here. He could see the pride in his father's eyes, the tears in his mother's, as he followed the Major towards the car. He hesitated, looking back at his parents for what he felt would be the last time. He wanted that image burned into the back of his mind, which would be better than any photograph.

"Come along, Captain Nicholls," The Major had gruffly ordered, waiting impatiently by the door. "Stiff upper lip. We have a war to win here." James got into the car like he was ordered, watching his parents disappear in a cloud of dust as the car rumbled away. The only child of a lord going off to war.

James turned his head, watching as Sergeant Samuel Perkins stumbled into the room, reeking of drink as he collapsed onto the bed next to his. He tugged off his boots, letting them fall onto the floor with twin thuds.

"You missed, a great party," Samuel said a little too loudly. "We all missed you in the officer's mess, Jim-boy. Where were you?" James frowned at him.

"You snuck into the officer's mess?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Major Stewart invited me," Samuel swayed on the bed.

"Wonderful," James muttered. His friend bounced over to his bed, bringing the strong smell of drink along with him.

"Come on!" Samuel shook his shoulder. "It is our last night free before we go join the war! You should be out celebrating!"

"Celebrating what?" James snarled, sitting up so he could face his intoxicated friend. "The fact that out there, somewhere is a bullet with our name on it? There are people dying out there, and all you can think of is the drink."

"Don't forget about the girls," Samuel slurred. "You forgot about the girls." James growled to himself, getting up to tower over his friend.

"You are a bloody ranking official in the bloody King's Army," James scolded heavily. "The least you could do is show some respect! Just because you're the second son of an earl doesn't mean you get to bloody bugger off!"

"What has gotten into you?" his friend narrowed his eyes. "You were fine earlier this evening." James turned to lean on the windowsill, watching infantry run drills in the limited light of the training yard.

"Did you read the reports this evening?" James asked bluntly.

"Yeah, so?"

James hung his head.

"They charged into a German camp. Three hundred men and horses. Two hundred six men dead, the rest captured. Who knows how many horses were maimed or killed. Mowed down by machine gun fire that was hidden nearby. The age of the Calvary is over, don't they get that? Then here we are, preparing to send another blind Calvary into training." James hadn't realized that his voice had reached the point of breaking. He remained turned away, trying to avoid showing weakness in front of another person.

His friend sat on the bed, silently listening. All of the laughter had gone from his eyes, his mouth somber.

"Blimey, I didn't realize…"

James glared at his friend.

"Of course you don't." James slid down to the floor, resting his head against the cold masonry. "You think that this is a game."

"The Major said that war is like chess."

"The Major is an idiot."

"Don't let him catch you saying that."

"I don't really care."

Samuel lay on his stomach to look at James.

"What do you think happens to us, if we are killed?" he asked.

"You mean, to us or back home?" James asked without moving his head.

"Back home."

James thought about it. He knew that his mother would be inconsolable. His father, he wasn't sure what his father would do. Probably sit in front of the fire, staring endlessly into it. His father had delayed finding a suitable girl for James, though he tried to find one on his own. Most girls were only interested in the money, or the fact that she would be married to a lord. James wanted a girl who was smart, his equal, one who would help him run the estate. There was one girl he had his eye on, but she was interested in Lord Devonshire's cousin.

"I don't know about your family," James finally spoke. "But mine would be searching for a suitable replacement for me."

"That's right, you're the only child," his friend nodded solemnly. "Why did the army even take you?"

"They needed officers," James replied softly. "The look of pride in my father's eyes, it was almost like I was being sent to some bloody prestigious school or something. As if I were receiving knighthood from the king himself."

"In a way we are."

James narrowed his eyes, "How is being sent to war like receiving a knighthood?"

"Think of the old stories!" Samuel's eyes lit up. "The knights of the roundtable being sent on quests for king and country!"

"Get your head out of the clouds," James scolded, growing weary of bantering, his body craving sleep. "And for bloody sake go to sleep."

"Nah!" his friend grinned. "Too excited for that." James drug himself upright, deciding if he was going to throw his friend to the floor or just fall asleep in his bed. His friend's cocky smile settled that matter. Using his limited wrestling knowledge and the advantage of his friend's drunken state, James flung him to the floor. Samuel gave a cry of alarm, before pulling on James.

James flipped over Samuel, before they began wrestling for real. Samuel was laughing, while James was just trying to pin Samuel so he could knock so sense into him.

Lights turned on, a booming voice and rough hands forced the pair apart.

"What do you think that you are doing?" the voice rolled through the room. James quickly scrambled to his feet, standing to attention. Samuel was a little slower, but his eyes went wide as he sloppily went to attention.

Major Stewart looked between the two, his hard eyes narrowed to slits. His hands were clasped behind his back, his mustache bristling. James didn't know Major Stewart well enough, but enough to know that he followed the rules to the letter and demanded respect from those under him. Woe to those who dared go over the line.

"Sergeant," he rounded on Samuel, "I invited you to the mess and you make an ass of yourself." He spun around to face James. "And you are an officer. I expect you to set an example for the enlisted, not join in their tom-foolery."

"Yes sir," James replied in a small voice. Major Stewart stared into James's face, before stepping back to look between the two men.

"We are at war, gentlemen. The time for childish behavior has past. I expect you both to lead the men under your command as soldiers of the British Army. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

Major Stewart nodded his head curtly.

"For your little act of immaturity," Major Stewart doled out of the punishment, "you will both be in charge of leading the supply wagons when we head for camp tomorrow. I trust that you both won't screw that up." James winced. His men weren't going to let him hear the end of this.

"No sir."

Major Stewart gave a grunt before heading out the door. He paused in the doorway.

"Get some sleep gentlemen," his voice softened. "We have a long war ahead of us."

"Yes sir."

"Goodnight."

Major Stewart turned the lights off, leaving the pair in the dark. James relaxed his stance, crawling back into bed. He heard Samuel flounce onto his own bed, chuckling to himself.

"That could have gone worse."

"Yeah, leading the supply wagons is just a slap on the wrist," James replied dryly.

"Goodnight James."

James heard Samuel fall asleep, lightly snoring in his drunken stupor. James returned to his original state, staring up at the ceiling. He could faintly hear commands being shouted in the distance at those still training. Even fainter were the whinnies of horses.

James couldn't sleep. How could he, knowing that with the sunrise came a new chapter in his life. Or, a last chapter.

James rolled onto his side, his hand slipping under his pillow. The leather of his sketchbook met his fingers. His hand grasped the leather, the familiarity comforting him. His eyes closed, hoping that he would be allowed to open them again when the morning came.


	2. Chapter 2

James was taking advantage of the rare English sun by getting away from the main part of camp to sit on the far end of the pasture. The rainbow of horses grazed nearby, taking no interest in the fact that he was sitting under a tree and watching them.

The trip to the camp had been trying for James, as his men rode by with wide eyes and knowing smiles at their commanding officer's, punishment. Samuel had woken with a raging hangover, not really caring that James was smarting by having the men parade past them. The Major even ordered the pair to ride on horseback, instead of in the protection of the lead truck. So, with the whole world to see, James and Samuel led the slow-paced trucks on the long, dusty journey to the camp.

James's mount was a skittish two year old, whom James really didn't think was cut out for Calvary work. The colt chomped at his bit, trying to yank the rein's out of James's hands when he wasn't jumping at every shadow. It took every ounce of James's riding knowledge and arm strength to keep the animal under control. Samuel had lucked out by getting a farm horse that plodded along at the pace of the vehicles.

James's solution was to let the colt, which he had named Demon, run the length of the caravan and back. Well, that was the idea at least. Halfway down, Demon jumped at seemingly nothing, sending James tumbling into the brush. Finding himself free, Demon went crashing off into the woods.

An hour later of catching the flighty animal, checking to see if James was alright, and getting everyone situated again left James in a foul mood. He tied Demon to Samuel's mount's saddle, opting to walk alongside the enormous horse with a slight limp. Samuel thankfully didn't comment on the situation, leaving the friends silent for the last aching miles.

They arrived in camp long after they were due, with the Major not being pleased by their delay. James left Demon in the hands of the handlers, hoping that they had better luck than he. Samuel insisted that James see the medic, though he only his only prescription was to take it easy for a few days with the ankle.

Which, found James on the far end of the pasture eyeing Demon as he tried to make friends with some of the other horses. However, they weren't putting up with any of his wild behavior. James shook his head, wondering how anyone was going to be able to put up with him.

It wasn't that James didn't like horses. On the contrary, he loved horses. He admired their elegance, their speed, their strength. He had been riding since a young age, impressing and terrifying people with his skills in the saddle. He spent countless hours just riding in the woods behind the manor, working in tandum with his mount. He entered a few friendly races during the summer, much to his mother's horror.

Rushing hooves brought James out of his thoughts, watching one of his men gallop towards him. James stiffly got to his feet, trying to keep his weight off of his still troublesome ankle as the man, boy really, pull his mount up and slide off.

"Captain," the boy saluted hastily, "the Major wants to see you sir."

"Thank you David," James replied. "You are dismissed." The boy didn't move, looking hesitant. "What is it?"

"Would you like to ride back, sir?" David asked, James catching David's quick glance at his injured ankle before looking back up at him. James tried to not grow irritated with him. Most of the men had been concerned about his injury, though they wisely chose not to mention it in front of him. Though the offer was kind, James's pride caused him to shake his head.

"No, but thank you," James suggested a smile. "Take good care of your mount, and your mount will take care of you. Remember that." David grinned, gently stroking the horse's velvety nose.

"Thank you sir!" David's head bobbed up and down. "I will sir!" James started to make his way towards the command office, David following alongside him. They both chatted about horses, with James secretly learning more about the lad. He was trying to make an effort to get to know those under his command, though tried to avoid growing attached. Not everyone was going to come back.

James limped into the officer's building, pausing outside the Major's door long enough to knock.

"Enter."

Cover tucked under his arm, James entered the room, standing at attention in front of the Major's desk.

"You wished to see me, sir?" James asked, eyes straight ahead.

"Yes, Captain. At ease," the Major rumbled, motioning towards the seat behind James. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you sir," James sat. The Major looked slightly amused.

"How is the ankle?"

"Still sore, sir."

"Hmm. I have an assignment for you, if you are up to it," the Major shuffled some papers on his desk. James narrowed his eyes briefly. He was getting a bit tired of everyone treating him as if he were fragile.

"I would like the opportunity to get away from camp," James admitted. The Major still looked amused.

"I've noticed," the Major's voice rumbled. "What have you been sketching?" James suddenly realized that his sketchbook was still in his hand. Feeling slightly childish, James placed it on the desk.

"The horses," James responded, opening the book to show the Major. He flipped through the drawings, lingering on a few curiously before looking up at James.

"These are quite good," the Major praised. "I'm impressed. You seem to like these creatures."

"I love horses," James smiled slightly. "I grew up with them." The Major nodded, folding his long hands on the desk.

"I need you to go around to the local villages and collect as many horses as you can," the Major assigned. "Someone else will be recruiting men, but I need you to recruit mounts. You have a good eye for the animals and I trust your judgment. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes sir," James grinned.

"Good," the Major rose to his feet, James scrambling up as well. "Rowley has the list of specifics and you will start tomorrow."

"Very good sir," James saluted. The Major nodded, James's dismissal. James hobbled out of the office, heading for the Major's secretary. Rowley didn't even look up, as he was focused on another task, but motioned towards a stack of papers balanced precariously on another stack. James took the stack, starting to glance through them as he headed into his own office.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

James, startled out of his thoughts, froze in the doorway to see Samuel reclining back in a chair. He was playing with a piece of tack, a harness it looked like. James shut the door, glaring at his friend more out of annoyance rather than anger.

"The Major is sending me to the villages tomorrow to recruit horses," James explained, sitting down at his desk. The stack of papers went off to the side, while the sketchbook he tenderly set in a place of honor. Samuel let all four legs of the chair touch the ground, his eyes hungrily scanning the closed sketchbook. James put a protective hand on it, causing Samuel to sit back with disappointment.

"You're going to go recruit horses," Samuel let an impish grin form. "How do you get a horse to sign up? Does he have to put a hoof print on a piece of paper?"

"Shut up," James flung a pencil at him. Samuel dodged the pencil, laughing.

"Anyway," Samuel let his laughter slow. "The men wanted to know what we're doing this evening." James leaned back in his seat. This was pretty much the last night that any of them were going to have free. He could drill the men, but he wanted them relaxed and happy tomorrow for when they would start working with the horses.

"Tell them that they have the night off," James quickly started handwriting the order. "Under no circumstances are they allowed to do anything that might reflect badly on themselves, their company, and myself. Especially you." Samuel looked slightly offended.

"What would I do?"

"Plenty."

"It's like you don't know me at all!"

"It's because I know you well enough."

Samuel got to his feet, taking the orders from James's hand. "What are you going to do tonight then?" James looked up at his friend.

"Prepare for tomorrow," James replied. Samuel wrinkled his nose.

"You need to get out, enjoy yourself!" Samuel protested. "Meet me at the edge of camp at sundown. No excuses."

"How a Sergeant came to give a Captain orders I won't understand," James said with a straight face. Samuel froze at first, then realized that James was teasing him.

"Aha, you do have a sense of humor, the men were worried," Samuel shook a finger at James. "Sundown, down be late!" James watched Samuel exit the room, shaking his head in silent mirth. Maybe it would be good for him to get out, it would certainly help make sure that Samuel didn't get into trouble. Smiling to himself, James started in on the paperwork for tomorrow.

James read the sign above the tavern, The Crown and Sword, before glancing at the grinning Samuel.

"Only one drink, then we leave," James warned.

"You're no fun," Samuel gripped James's shoulder, propelling him towards the door. "Relax! Have fun!" Before James could say anymore, he was swept into the room.

"Captain!"

James managed a smile as many of his company greeted him warmly. Many of them jumped up to clap him on the shoulder or offer to buy him a round. James waded through the crowd, a smug Samuel behind him, to find a table in the corner. He leaned back against the wall, his men going back to their drinking and loud conversations. A pretty tavern maid sidled up to the table, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Hello handsome," she flirted. "What can I get you?" Samuel leaned forward, clearly interested.

"Two ales and for you to come join us," Samuel ordered before James could open his mouth. She gave Samuel a disgusted look, but slowly blinked at James before heading away. Samuel winked at James.

"She likes you," he grinned. James ran a finger along the rough wood table.

"It wouldn't be right," James muttered.

"The men would enjoy it."

James gave a look of disgust. "It still won't make it right."

"You might not have a choice."

James watched at the tavern maid came back, setting the mugs of ale before the two men. She was throwing every signal of interest at him, while he tried to remain as still as possible so he wouldn't give the wrong signal back. Her hand trailed across his, her eyes looking into his through lowered eyelashes. James snatched his hand away.

"Thank you," James's voice was friendly yet firm. She stood over him, her hand trailing up his arm. Her eyes were hungry as she slowly moved away.

James let a held breath out, taking a deep drink from his mug. Samuel looked amazed, but also at the point of laughter.

"How did you do that?" Samuel laughed.

"Do what?" James eyed him suspiciously.

"Avoid the call of the siren."

James gave a snort. "Honor."

"If you don't want her, I'll take her."

"She doesn't like you."

"How do you know?"

James took another swig before winking at his friend. "Because I'm a ranking officer and you're not."

The two friends took their time, talking and joking while they nursed their ale. James's head was a little fuzzy by the time they were ready to leave, heading outside and into the night.

"I'll get our horses," Samuel slurred, staggering towards the stable. James leaned against the tavern wall, looking up into the night sky. The stars twinkled at him as the moon shone brightly.

"Here you are."

James looked down to see that the tavern maid had followed him outside.

"I'm leaving," James told her, wishing that Samuel would hurry up.

"We have some time," she came in close.

"We shouldn't," James pressed himself against the wall.

"Why, you have a girl back home?" she asked suggestively, pressing up against him. James's muddled mind fought to regain control.

"No," James replied flatly. She raised herself onto her toes, leaning on him to stabilize herself.

"Then why not?" she whispered, brushing his lips with a kiss. James tensed as her mouth worked against his. Her hands slid to the nape of his neck. James instantly grabbed her wrists, lowering her to the ground as he held her there.

"I said, no," James said firmly. She frowned at him as Samuel brought the horses around. James carefully let her go, swinging up into the saddle. He urged his mount forward, not looking back. Samuel moved to come up alongside, looking at James with slight shock.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"Nothing," James replied, pushing the memory of the amorous maid out of his mind. "She just wanted a snog, not a relationship."

"She probably wanted something else."

James rolled his eyes. Samuel was probably interested in fast women, but James wasn't. He was looking for a meaningful relationship, one where his partner was his equal. A woman who used her mind, not faint at the mere mention of drama. James looked back up at the moon, wondering if the woman he was destined to meet was also looking at the same moon.


	3. Chapter 3

James walked into the stables, the sweet scent of horse and hay filling his nose. He fought back a sneeze as hay dust wafted in the rays of sunlight coming through open outside stall doors. He walked past the horses, some sticking their heads out to watch him walk by. Most of these horses were from the last village they had visited yesterday. In fact, the horse he was going to visit was from that village.

He saw Topthorn first, his majestic black head watching him warily as James approached. He knew that the Major would choose him to be his own personal mount. But James didn't like the cold look in the horse's eyes. Topthorn gave a whicker, which brought his stable mate looking over his own door.

Joey's intelligent eyes sparkled as James stood in front of him. He tossed his head in greeting, ears pricked forward in a friendly manner.

"Hey there Joey," James said softly, rubbing his nose gently. Joey wuffed air into James's face in response. James gave a laugh, opening the stall door to look his new horse over.

Joey was young, but well trained with spirit. His young owner was just as spirited, begging to be taken along with Joey so they wouldn't be separated. The pain in the boy's father's eyes as the boy said goodbye to his friend was heartbreaking. James hated being the bad guy, especially separating someone so young from their best friend. He had promised to take care of Joey, and he intended to keep that promise.

Samuel didn't like or understand Joey's spirit, thinking that Joey was too wild to be a proper mount. However, James understood. He too was someplace he didn't want to be, separated from all that he had known.

James gently ran a hand over Joey, glad that he was being well fed and brushed till he shone. Joey practically glowed in the dim light, watching James as he moved around the horse.

"Let's go for a ride, shall we?" James asked. Joey pawed the floor. James took that as a yes, quickly moving to saddle his new mount. Joey remained patient, constantly looking over his shoulder to watch James work. At was as if the horse was trying to get to know James as he was trying to get to know Joey.

James finished, making sure all of the buckles and straps were in place and wouldn't hurt the horse. He took the reins, Joey still watching him.

"Come on, let's go have some fun," James smiled. Joey gave a soft whicker as James led the horse out of the stall. He didn't meet anyone on the way out, though he could see most of his men training with their mounts under the watchful eyes of numerous instructors in the far paddock. James was one of the fortunate few who were master riders already, which was why the Major and himself were doing other things. The Major, like James, grew up around horses. He had been out with Topthorn earlier in the day.

James mounted the horse, turning his head to head down a trail he had found earlier. Joey munched on his bit, prancing as he wanted his head to run. James held him back though, knowing of a place up ahead to test the horse.

The clearing was wide, almost the same size as the large paddock which everyone else was practicing in. It was silent, missing the sounds of the camp and other horses, with the wind in the tops of the trees whispering to them. Joey pranced some more, eager to run.

"Alright Joey, time to show me what you are made of," James said excitedly. He felt like he was ten again, racing one of his father's hunters without his permission. His heart raced in anticipation, while Joey tossed his head as he felt James's excitement. Ever so slightly, James released the pressure on the reins.

Joey started off at a hoppy trot, then quickly went to a gallop. James's heart hammered in his chest as Joey continued to race. Tears streamed across his face as the wind slapped his face.

"Come on Joey!" James shouted. "Come on!" Joey continued to push the limits of his speed with James trying to aid Joey to the best of his ability. He had never been on a horse like Joey.

Joey reached the edge of the clearing and James sat up to tug back on the reins. Joey wanted to keep running, but James didn't want to tire him out. Joey grudgingly slowed, shaking his head in an attempt to gain control back over his head. James forced him to keep walking, not wanting muscles to freeze up.

"Easy Joey," James soothed, patting the horse's neck. "Don't want you too worked up. Though, I can't wait to show you off to the others." Joey gave a snort, coming to a stop. James slipped off of his back, looking over the horse. But he was whole and healthy. He stared down at James, ears pricked up and waiting for him to do something. James smiled and relaxed, realizing that this was the first time he had done so in a while.

James opted to walk back to camp, the reins slack as Joey fell in alongside him. Joey drank his water daintily as James rubbed him down. Samuel came riding up in a cloud of dust, causing Joey to snap his head up to watch the intruding horse.

"The Major has a charge scheduled in an hour," Samuel was wide-eyed with excitement. "Where have you been? I have been searching all over camp for you!"

"I was out riding," James responded, giving Joey a pat. Samuel gave Joey a look.

"How did he handle?" Samuel asked with a frown.

James grinned at him. "You'll see."

James twirled the tasseled ring around a long finger, a lazy smile on his face. The charge was exactly how James imagined that it would. Joey had performed perfectly, beating out Topthorn and the rather ruffled Major and allowing James to capture the ring skewered by his sword. Joey had been raring to continue, making James pull him back. Both the Major and Topthorn were not thrilled with the pair beating them. Topthorn pawed at Joey, while the Major gave James a stern lecture about discipline and how things were done in the British Army.

But, for now, James was pleased with how things were going. Even if the Major disapproved of James's methods. Samuel had looked hurt by James's success, riding off without saying a word as they made their way back to the stables.

Joey leaned over the stall door, giving a soft whinny. James stopped twirling the ring, smiling at the horse.

"We sure showed them, didn't we Joey?" James crinkled his eyes in amusement. Joey flicked his head, as if he were nodding yes. James pulled out his sketchbook, continuing a drawing he had started on the horse.

"To tell the truth, I don't want to be here," James admitted. "Maybe if it was infantry or something else. But, Calvary is for the battles of yesterday. With technology making it's way onto the battlefield, there isn't a place for a charge with drawn swords. The Germans aren't fighting the same way we are, which is getting more people killed." James looked up from his sketch. Joey's head was hanging over the door, looking as if he were listening intently to every word that James was saying.

"I know that you don't want to be here either," James continued. "Your friend must miss you terribly. That is why I am sending him this sketch of you. How do you like it?" James held the drawing out to the horse. Joey stretched his neck out, giving the paper a sniff before trying to nibble it.

"Hey!" James scolded, snatching the paper back. "I can't get it back to your friend if you eat it!" Joey whickered loudly, causing Topthorn to poke his head out to see what all the commotion was about. James grew somber again, turning the pencil in his hands over in his fingers.

"I'm afraid Joey," James said softly the listening horses. "I've never led anyone into battle before, especially a suicide mission such as this. When will they learn? I don't want to be another number on a list of dead. I want to be Lord Nicholls, with a wife at my side and children playing in the garden. I want the name of James Nicholls to be known all over the Empire for some great achievement, not leading a group of defenseless boys and horses to their deaths. I want… I want…"

James didn't realize that tears had started to fall down his face. The two horses watched him, with Joey reaching out his nose to James. James got up, hugging the horse around the neck and buried his face in his mane. Joey remained still as James pulled himself together. He pulled away, looking Joey in the eye. Joey lowered his head, then nosed James hard in the chest. James stumbled backwards, giving a laugh.

"Thank you, my friend," James rubbed the horse's nose. Joey blew a puff of air into James's face.

"Glad to see that you two are such good friends."

James turned to see Samuel standing there, his eyes dark.

"Oh, sorry, didn't hear you come in!" James grinned.

Samuel continued his dark look. "You both conspiring your next brilliant move then? Coming up with another way to become stars of the camp?"

"What are you talking about?" James asked as Joey nipped at his sleeve.

Samuel slowly approached. "The whole camp is talking about you two. The Major is furious that you dared to charge out ahead. I thought the plan was for the two of us to stick together?" James felt hurt by his words, pushing Joey's nose away before he ate his shirt.

"You think I did this on purpose?" James asked. "I didn't mean to. Things just, happened. Joey was racing Topthorn and…"

"Then there is that bloody horse!" Samuel shouted, causing the two horses to toss their heads and snort at the loud voice. "Ever since you found him you are either in meetings or with that damn horse!"

"Easy!" James hissed, taking a step forward. "You're frightening the horses."

"Good!" Samuel shouted again, this time the horses began to rustle in their stalls. "They are animals! You care more about that horse than any of us under your command!"

James narrowed his eyes, hurt by his friend's barbed words. "That is not true! I am with all of you multiple times during the day. What I do on my free time is my own business. Now, let us go outside and discuss this like gentlemen and…"

Samuel slammed his fist into James's face, knocking him to the ground. The horses began to make a ruckus as Samuel jumped on James. James tried to shove Samuel off of him, but Samuel's fury sent blows raining down on him. The horses were screaming, with Joey trying to kick down his door.

Samuel had James pinned, one hand at James's throat. James struggled, his vision starting to go dark.

Shouting joined the horse screams, with air filling James's lungs as Samuel was yanked off of him. James coughed violently, rolling onto one knee before several sets of hands pulled him to his feet.

Several members of James's company were supporting James, while several others were holding Samuel back. The horses were still upset, with Joey still trying to get out to get to James.

"What is going on here?" the Major bellowed, causing even the horses to go quiet. James coughed a few times, nodding to his men to let him go.

"They were fighting, sir," one of the men nervously answered.

"Again?" the Major growled. "Is this true, Captain?"

"Yes sir," James croaked out. The Major lifted his head, looking down at James in disappointment.

"Who started it?" the Major demanded.

"I did," Samuel said proudly. The Major stood over Samuel, fury blazing in his eyes.

"Sergeant Samuel Perkins," the Major rumbled. "You will wait in my office. Make sure he gets and remains there." The two men holding Samuel back drug him out of the stable as the Major turned to the two flanking James. "I will speak to the Captain in private. Dismissed." The two men gave James worried looks, but James nodded and they left. James staggered over to Joey, talking softly in order to get the horse to calm down. Joey was bracing himself, but his ears flicked forward at the sound of James's voice. After a moment, Joey came to James to be petted.

"What started the fight, Captain?" the Major inquired as he calmed Topthorn down.

"I'm not exactly sure, sir," James admitted. "He sounded, oddly, like he was unhappy that I was spending time with Joey here. I think he was upset about the charge earlier today." The Major turned to look at him, his mouth a firm line under his moustache.

"He wasn't the only one," the Major said grimly. James looked away, guilty. "However, that is no excuse for an enlisted officer to attack a Captain. His punishment will be swift and severe." James turned to look at the Major with a pleading look.

"What is his punishment to be, sir?" James asked fearfully.

"A drop in rank, extra duties," the Major replied. "I'm also putting you on extra guard duty for your punishment."

"What? Hmm, yes sir," James started to protest but quickly shut his mouth. He didn't think it was fair that he was being punished as well, but there was nothing he could do about it." The Major removed his cover to scratch his head, looking weary all of the sudden.

"I just received our orders," the Major said softly. "We are being shipped off to France in a few days. We are to root out enemy camps and provide necessary aid to those on the front. Please inform your men so they can start to prepare. I expect you to report for guard duty at sundown."

James felt a hand reach into his stomach and squeeze. So soon? They were leaving for the war so soon?

"Yes sir," James replied quietly. The Major nodded before exiting the stables, looking as if they entire war was on his shoulders. James reached out and stroked the now calm Joey. The war, which had seemed so far away, was looming on the horizon. A war that they were blindly riding into for king and country.


	4. Chapter 4

The salt in the air stung James's nose as he looked over the pier. A babble of voices, a mixture of English and French, met his ears as sailors and workers scrambled all over the wooden deck. James could hear the hallow hoof-steps of Joey behind him as he shifted his weight.

Joey had fared better on the journey than James had. Joey had been paired with Topthorn, with the two leaning on each other for support. James had to share quarters with the Major. Between being seasick and the Major's constant glower, James hadn't enjoyed the trip at all. As soon as James felt his stomach start to roll, he curled up in his bunk and fought to keep his stomach inside his body.

He was never more grateful to reach dry land, even if it was just the dock. The Major was at the far end of the dock with those who had fared well on the journey. James had opted to take the end with the others who had trouble controlling the contents of their stomachs.

These men gave James salutes and weak grins as they shuffled past, leading their anxious mounts forward. Samuel had already gone past, not looking James in the eye and giving a brief salute. James's heart sunk as his friend didn't even acknowledge their friendship. He had lost a friend, the first casualty for James in this bloody war.

James wobbly made his way at the end of the line of his men, not exactly paying attention to what was transpiring around him. There were men slowly approaching to get onto the ship, which caught James's attention. What he saw, caused his heart to race and his stomach to roll again.

They shuffled towards the boat, some in stretchers, some on crutches. Missing limbs, bloody bandages, a few with melted faces. What frightened James the most was the dead look in their eyes. It was like they had seen hell, though they were too shocked to speak of their ordeal. This, is what war was. Samuel, along with most of the men, only thought war as a game. A game where they would play soldier in the afternoon and everyone would be home in for dinner and a pint. However, after reading the countless reports coming in from the front, James knew that was not true. Now, he had the visual to go along with those reports.

Something grabbed his hand. James froze, looking down at a man lying on a stretcher. He had a death grip on James's hand, his eyes wide and vacant. Half of his face was bandaged, his mouth opening and closing in a silent scream. The soldier's hand left James's to grab James's uniform, dragging him down to the man's face. James tried to scramble away, Joey snorting in alarm. The soldier pulled himself to James's ear, his breathing ragged.

"Run," the soldier's voice was hoarse. "Death… coming… run…" His hand dropped, his head falling back onto the stretcher. His dead eyes stared into James's soul, his mouth open slightly as his last breath escaped his lungs.

James stumbled back against Joey's solid shoulder as medics clustered around the dead soldier. The soldier's empty eyes still bore into him as he began to tremble. Joey shifted to support James, and he gripped Joey's mane as he tried not to fall apart.

One of the medics glanced over his shoulder at James, a grizzled old man who had grown accustomed to the carnage of war. He gave a gruff order to some of the other medics, who covered the soldier's face with a cloth before hurrying him away. Even though the soldier was gone, James could still see his eyes as he shut them.

"Captain?"

James opened his eyes to find the medic looking concerned into his face.

"Are you alright, son?" the medic asked gently, putting a hand on James's shoulder.

"I'm… I'm…" James tried to say that he was fine, but it wouldn't come out. The medic nodded in understanding.

"Nothing can prepare you for this," the medic tried to assure James. "War is a rich man's game, and unfortunately we're the pawns picked off one by one. Know that it is coming, and brace yourself for it." He glanced up at Joey, stroking the horse's nose with a sad smile. "Take care of him, four-legged friend. He will need it." Joey nodded his head, as if he had understood the older medic's words.

"May God have mercy on us all," the medic looked into James's watering eyes. "May he look over you and your men." The medic gave a brief salute before turning to bark orders at his milling medics.

James continued to hang onto Joey, shaken. All of his men had moved off the dock, waiting for James to join them. He didn't want to present himself until he had calmed down, but he didn't have much of a choice. He pulled the visor of his cover further down over his face. But it wasn't going to hide the tears that had already fallen down his face.

He felt Joey start to walk towards his men, James still hanging on to his mane. James was too numb to try to get the horse to stop so he could pull himself together, but Joey was smarter than that. He put himself between James and the men, hiding James from the whispers as they skirted around the edge of the group. Joey stopped next to Topthorn, the two horses touching noses as the Major moved around to stand in front of James.

"Are you alright James?" the Major asked, looking concerned.

"Yes sir," James managed to get out. The Major looked grim.

"Take the rear. I'll understand if you don't want to talk."

James nodded numbly, remaining by Joey's side as the men mounted up before riding out. As the last men rode past, James swung up into the saddle, letting Joey follow after the last horses. James kept his head down, focusing on staying on Joey's back. Young David and his friend Jack were riding in front of him, and James couldn't helping listening to their conversation.

"Did you see those men?"

"That was horrible. Wonder where they were fighting?"

"The front lines no doubt."

"Did you see the Captain? I don't know what that soldier said but it sure spooked him!"

"The man died, Jack. Right in front of the Captain. There was nothing he could do."

"I couldn't see his face. But I bet that he was upset."

"I would be upset too if someone just died like that in front of me."

"I guess that's what we're going to see while we're here."

The two boys fell silent. James wondered if they realized that James was riding behind them. He'd rather not give his position away, deciding to keep listening to their conversation instead. Anything to keep the death-rattled voice and haunted eyes out of his memory.

"Corporal Perkins is still angry."

"I don't know why. He's the one who attacked the Captain."

"He was going around saying that the Captain isn't fit to lead."

James twitched. David gave Jack a seething glare.

"He is too fit to lead. He's more a man than…"

David was cut off as they watched Samuel ride down the line he circled around behind them, ignoring James as he glared at the two boys.

"What are you two lagging back here?" he growled.

"The Major wanted us to bring up the rear, sir," David drew out the sir. Samuel didn't look pleased.

"Watch your tone, private," Samuel threatened. "You're not under Captain Nicholls protection here."

"Stand down, Corporal. You have made your point," James finally spoke. Samuel jumped as they two boys tugged their horses around to stare at him. James urged Joey to trot up to them. He looked the two boys over before fixing Samuel with a steely look.

"What are you doing back here?" Samuel narrowed his eyes.

"What are you doing back here, sir," James corrected him. Samuel flushed with anger as the boy's eyes grew wide. "Go on ahead you two, we'll catch up." The boys glanced at each other before a determined look came across David's face.

"Sir…"

"That's an order, private," James glanced at him. David looked slightly hurt, but wheeled his horse around to catch up with the rest of the company, Jack not too far behind. James hoped that David was honorable enough to find another commanding officer to get help. He wasn't sure what Samuel's intentions were, but history told him that they would be less than honorable. His sword rested uneasily at his hip, with James hoping that he wouldn't have to use it. Joey seemed to sense the tension in James's body, lifting his head to stare down Samuel's mount.

"What are your orders, sir," Samuel sneered the word.

"Join the rest of the regiment," James responded, braced for an attack. Samuel kicked his horse so they were close together, his eyes dark with anger.

"You can't be protected back here," Samuel threatened.

"Are you threatening me, Corporal?" James warned, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. Samuel's eyes tracked James's hand, curling a lip dangerously.

"Let's just say that there is more going on here than you and me," Samuel dropped his voice. "As you have said before, the age of the Calvary is dead. We'll see who comes out triumphant in the end." James felt his blood run cold as Samuel wrenched his poor horse's head around, kicking it into a gallop. Joey tossed his head, with James reaching down to pat Joey's neck automatically.

"What do you make of that?" James asked Joey quietly. Joey gave a snort, pawing at the ground, wanting to race after the pair. James held him back, his mind whirling from the day's events. Something was wrong with his friend, but he couldn't determine what it was.

"Come on boy, race you there!" James let the reins go slack. Joey gave a whinny, before bolting after the shrinking company.

James awoke in a sweat, trying to control his breathing. The remnants of the nightmare clung to him like his sweat-soaked clothing. The dead soldier had visited him every night since they had arrived in France. His dead eyes gaping holes as he reached a skeletal hand out to James.

_Run… death is coming… beware… death… betrayal…_

James sat up, running his trembling hands over his face. The nightmare was getting worse as they drew closer to their destination. The occasional boom of a mortar exploding in the distance brought it home to many of the men that they were actually in a war. James could hear them now, knowing that many of the men weren't sleeping well because of it.

James stood up, carful not to disturb his tent mate as he snored on his bedroll. Sergeant Leonard wasn't much older than James, with a wide grin and full of jokes. When James had finally caught up with the rest of the regiment, Sergeant Leonard was waiting for him. The first thing he did was pull a coin out of Joey's ear, who snorted at Leonard with alarm before nudging him, searching him for more coins. James had allowed a small laugh to escape, relaxing slightly around the jovial young man. They spent dinner getting to know each other, with James actually laughing hard enough to put his men at ease. David and Jack apparently weren't only ones who had been concerned about him. He remembered seeing the Major smiling nearby, obviously the orchestrator of this pairing.

The cold night air hit James as he left the tent, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. They were camped at the edge of a forest, with the tents in rows and the horses on lines just inside the tree line. He could hear the men changing the guard as a couple of horses called to each other.

James silently made his way towards the horses, avoiding the light of the scattered campfires and those patrolling the edges of the camp. James entered the forest, the moon peering through the trees as he felt his way towards the horses. More than once he tripped over a root, cursing silently under his breath as he ran into a tree.

"Halt!"

James ducked behind a tree, peering around it to see one of the guards approaching a figure amongst the horse line. As the man's torch swung into the man's face, James was shocked to see Samuel. Samuel looked annoyed, pushing the torch out of his face.

"What do you want?" Samuel demanded.

"I will have to ask you the same thing, sir."

"None of your business."

"I have to make it my business."

James could see Samuel draw himself to his full height.

"The Major sent me out. Happy now?"

The guard let Samuel pass before continuing on his round. James waited until both were gone before emerging from his hiding place. What was Samuel up to? James knew for a fact that the Major hadn't sent anyone out, James would have heard about it. He quickly walked past the horses, finding Samuel's mount. He was warm to the touch, with evidence of being ridden hard. James picked up the horse's front hooves, finding interesting types of debris. There was river mud, along with various stones and twigs. All of it was from not around their area. The nearest source of water was a creek many miles from here, where their enemy supposedly was holed up.

James got to his feet, his body taking him right to Joey. Joey and Topthorn had been sleeping. Topthorn gave an annoyed whicker while Joey opened one sleepy eye at James.

"You didn't see where Samuel went did you?" James whispered to the horse. Joey went back to sleep. James knew that this was too important not to keep from the Major until morning. He quickly made his way back into camp, managing to avoid every member of the guard as he jogged to the Major's tent. He paused just outside, shocked to hear a familiar voice coming from inside.

"The guard is lying, sir," Samuel's voice floated out to James. "I was only checking the horse lines." James grew grim. Samuel was lying! He was flat out lying to the Major!

"That's enough, Corporal," the Major's voice rumbled. "Let me sleep on it and we'll discuss this further in the morning." James moved back. He couldn't let Samuel catch him eavesdropping. He pretended to look as if he had just woken, blindly stumbling into Samuel as he pushed out of the tent.

"Sorry, pardon me. Oh, it's you," James looked at him. Samuel narrowed his eyes, growling as he disappeared into the darkness. Letting out a sigh of relief, James entered the tent.

The Major looked surprised to see James enter the tent, frowning at him with concern. James quickly saluted.

"At ease James," the Major leaned on his desk. "You are up at an odd hour."

"Permission to speak freely?" James asked, worried as to how the Major was going to take this. The Major raised an eyebrow.

"Granted."

"I believe that a foul plot is afoot."

The Major frowned, tapping his fingers on the table.

"What plot is that?"

James shifted uncomfortably. "I believe that Corporal Perkins is up to something."

"Does this have to do with him sneaking around the horse lines tonight?" the Major asked.

"Yes sir," James replied. "There was river mud in his horse's hooves. River mud is only found near the enemy camp." The Major drew himself up to his full height.

"You are making some serious accusations Captain," the Major warned.

"I'm only telling you what I saw," James sounded worried. The Major just stood there, playing with his mustache.

"Go back to sleep," the Major yawned. "I'll explore this further in the morning. Dismissed." James drew his mouth into a firm line, exiting the tent. He felt like someone was watching him, but he shook it off as stress and exhaustion. He headed back to his tent, looking forward to getting some sleep, if the nightmares kept away.

He didn't see the figure watching him from the shadows. The figure that had heard every word transpired between him the Major.


	5. Chapter 5

James looked at the map with a frown. The X marking the German camp sat between a field and the edge of a forest, similar to how their camp was situated.

"We will hide in the field here," the Major explained, pointing to the spot on the map as Samuel, Leonard, and James watched silently over his shoulder. "Corporal, you will take the left flank, Sergeant, the right. Captain, you are with me in the center. Just like our training runs, except you and I will stay together this time." James could feel Samuel's eyes boring into the back of his neck as his face slightly colored at the Major's words.

"I dunno Major," Sergeant Leonard joked. "I think we'll be able to frighten the Germans more if we let Cap here going riding out first! Between that giant horse of his and him screaming like a banshee the Germans just might die of fright!"

"I don't scream like a banshee," James glared at him.

"Yeah you do," Leonard grinned. "You did the other day."

"Because you were the one who put fake snake in my bedroll," James snarled.

"Gentlemen," the Major boomed, looking them all over with beady eyes.

"Sorry Major," Leonard grinned. James tried not to roll his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning's charge will require all three of my commanders follow the orders to the letter," the Major continued, his eyes lingering on Samuel for some reason. "The point of this mission is to attack swiftly and without mercy. The Germans haven't shone us mercy yet, so our orders is to give no quarter. We will regroup at the edge of the forest to assess losses and create teams to track down any remnants of the Germans. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

Samuel and Leonard wandered off as James chased after the Major.

"Sir!" James called out. The Major paused briefly to let James catch up with him.

"Yes, Captain, what is it?" the Major sounded weary.

"I was just thinking," James started, "wouldn't it be better if we attack from the forest? Or split up? One half of the company flush the Germans out to chase them into the field where the other half is waiting?" The Major looked at James with a furrowed brow.

"That's absurd," the Major replied. "That would only increase casualties and lower the chances of this mission being successful."

"Sir, I've been hearing rumors of machine guns…"

"That is quite enough, Captain," the Major snapped. "That is ridiculous. Why would the Germans be dragging around heavy artillery? Especially a small camp such as this?"

"Because machine guns are the only thing that can stop a Calvary charge," James replied grimly. The Major stared at him, his mouth drawn to a firm line under his mustache.

"The Germans are cowards thinking that they could fight like that," the Major scoffed.

"Sir," James pleaded, "I have been reading the reports every day. More and more have the Germans been using higher grade weapons against our Calvary with disastrous results. Please, if only we…"

"I said that is enough Captain," the Major drew himself up to his full height. "I expect you to carry out my orders. If you even think of going turncoat on me I will execute you myself. Is that clear?" James's heart hammered in his chest. One way or another, the Major was handing him a death sentence. James drew himself up to stand at attention.

"Yes sir," James responded through gritted teeth. The Major gave a sound in the back of his throat before turning on his heel and striding off. James slumped his shoulders, his heart heavy.

James swept into his tent, eyeing his bedroll for any more of Leonard's little surprises before lying on top of it. The side of the tent shivered in the breeze, as sounds of the camps and distant horse line reached his ears. He gently pulled the leather sketchbook out from under his pillow, laying it on his chest. His long fingers opened the book, lifting several of the loose drawings of Joey for him to examine.

"Sketching again?"

James watched out of the corner of his eye as Leonard came in before sitting on his bedroll with a satisfied groan.

"Just looking," James replied quietly, shutting the book. Leonard cocked his head to the side.

"Are you alright? You don't look so good," Leonard sounded concerned. James looked up at the top of the tent.

"Anxious about tomorrow," James continued in a soft voice. Leonard ran a hand through his hair.

"I feel you there," Leonard admitted. "I don't like how we're approaching this either." James sharply turned his head to look at Leonard.

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

Leonard shrugged. "I figured that the Major knew what he was doing. He's led Calvary before."

"Before the Germans introduced machine guns to the charges," James propped himself onto on elbow. Leonard's eyes went wide.

"Machine guns?" Leonard gasped. "Are you certain?"

"Haven't you've been reading the reports?"

Leonard shook his head. "I heard that they weren't going well, but I assumed it was because our tactics were slipping." James shook his head sadly.

"I wish that were true," James said sadly. Leonard looked stunned.

"Saints preserve us," Leonard's voice was soft. Both men sat there in silence. James trailed his fingers along the leather book. He felt as if there was a clock somewhere counting down the time until his death. It was coming. The fates were stringing his thread of life, the gnarled scissors hovering, straddling the thread, just waiting to cut and end his life.

There was so much more he wanted to do. He was young, a whole life ahead of him. His men were young, with their lives ahead of them. He thought of David and Jack, who were only boys. Against his better judgment, he was leading them and their horses to their deaths. Innocent lives, lives that shouldn't even be here. This was not their war, this was a fight started by those who sat back in their castle and fortresses, watching the pawns fall like leaves on the wind. If they even stepped onto the battlefield, would they stop before there were more bloodshed? James thought back to the stories of great kings, like in Shakespeare and King Arthur, who led their men into battle and fought alongside them. Not watching the chessboard and seeing innocent boys snatched away like pawns.

James got to his feet, eyes glazed as thoughts and emotions whirled in his head. He heard Leonard call after him, but didn't understand the words. James avoided the men, they didn't need to see him like this. If he managed to calm down, he was going to go through them, trying to bolster their confidence and raise their spirits before they faced the uncertain dawn.

He found himself amongst the horses, which were watching him with knowing eyes. He found Joey and Topthorn playing, trying to nip each other. They stopped their antics once James approached with Joey flicking his head in greeting.

"Hey there Joey," James rubbed Joey's jaw. "My bonny boy. Do you know what tomorrow is? Huh, do you? Tomorrow you will have to be brave. Both of you will have to be brave. We face the jaws of death, their snarling teeth biting at our ankles as we try to race to safety. If we should get separated, stay with Topthorn. You'll both need to look after each other." Joey gave a snort, affectionately butting his head into James's chest. James rested his forehead on Joey's, breathing in the scent of horse and leather. Joey stood there patiently, Topthorn looking on.

James pulled away, giving Joey's forelock one last tug before turning back to camp. On the way back to his tent, James gave small talk to his men. He would occasionally laugh and joke with a group, while giving encouraging smiles to the younger ones. The older men would watch James solemnly, the looks on their faces mirroring the knowing in James's eyes.

James was grateful that Leonard wasn't in the tent when he got back. James used the last bit of light to write instructions for what was to be done with his sketchbook in case…

James sunk back onto the bedroll. He shut his eyes, but sleep eluded him. For tomorrow, time was going to run out.

The early morning sun made the tall grass glow gold. The stalks waved in the morning breeze, the hiss filling James's ears. Joey stood at his side, ears swiveling as he listened to the men talk quietly around them.

James had felt sick all morning, trying to remain positive as he rounded up the men. The Major had given a rousing speech about serving for King and Country, though James didn't join in the cheering. Then men had been in good spirits until they reached the sea of endless grass in the early morning light. As the men disappeared one by one leading their mounts in, the voices stopped all together. It was only in the past few minutes that the voices started back up again.

The Major was standing in front of James, with Leonard and Samuel hidden somewhere on opposite ends. They were waiting for the signal from a scout that had been sent out earlier. The waiting was agonizing, each second passing signaling the last moments of life.

"What are we waiting for?"

"The order to mount up I guess."

James didn't need to turn around to recognize the voices of David and Jack right behind him. As on the ride here, James pretended that he wasn't there or at least didn't hear them.

"The Major gave a nice speech."

"The Captain didn't cheer."

"He knows the truth."

"What truth is that?"

"That we shouldn't be doing it this way. Haven't you been watching him? He was moving through the camp like a ghost. He joined in the jokes and high spirits, but…"

"There was something else in his eyes."

"Like…"

"Fear."

"What should the Captain be afraid of? I thought he wasn't afraid of anything!"

"He's afraid for us."

James tightened his grip on Joey's reins. Joey felt that, turning his head to look at James. James stroked the horse's nose as the two boys continued their conversation. They were right, he was afraid. Afraid that after today, they would all be considered numbers on a page. They were no longer living beings, they were ink splashed onto a page. Alive, wounded, captured, missing, dead. Numbers on a page.

There was a hiss as someone moved in the grass towards them, the grim-faced scout saying something softly to the Major before disappearing back into the grass. The Major turned to James, tugging on his uniform.

"Give the order to mount up," he said gruffly, swinging up into his own saddle. James shut his eyes for a moment, one hand gripping his own saddle.

"Lord forgive me for what I am about to do," James whispered. He opened his eyes, turning to the grass behind him. "Men! Mount!" Whispers in the grass gave way to men popping up over the top of the grass. James swung up, Joey remaining still as James settled into the saddle. Joey's ears flickered back, waiting for James to speak. James quickly glanced around him, taking in each face as they waited for James's orders. He could see the German camp in the distance, everyone still asleep in the early morning.

"Swords," the Major grunted. James drew his sword, Joey's ears flicking as the metal scrapped out of the scabbard. The men followed James's example, their faces turning grim as the task that lay before them suddenly became clear. They looked to James, their eyes suddenly fearful.

"Good luck today, my friends," James tried to assure them. "Ride strong, ride fast. I will see you at the end." The men nodded, a couple grinning. James could hear the clock counting down in his head. Time was about to end.

"Give the order."

James took a deep breath, grasping his sword tighter as it pointed over Joey's right ear.

"Charge!"

Hooves drowned out everything else as they surged towards the camp. Joey flew after Topthorn, though James didn't let him get past him. Joey shook his head, wanting to run. But James held him back.

James took a quick glance for the other two commanders. Sergeant Leonard was whooping and hollering, his men responding in kind. Samuel had come out late, almost hidden from view by his own men. James glanced behind himself quickly to see that David and Jack were right behind him, their eyes wide in fear.

They hit the edge of the camp, where the Germans were stumbling out of their tents and making a run for the forest. James's stomach twisted at the thought of what lay in the shadows. This was it. This is how every Calvary charge ended, and it was happening again. The Major didn't seem to notice, cutting down fleeing Germans as he urged Topthorn ahead.

The camp ended as the forest rushed up to meet them. Hooves, shouts, screams, and the click of metal filled James's ears. The Major continued into the forest, but James reined Joey in quickly as an unusual sight met James's eyes.

He could see Samuel slow his horse down to a stop right at the edge of the forest. He dismounted before a ranking German stepped out of the trees. They both spoke, before they shook hands.

Rage flooded James. This was all Samuel's fault! He had led them all into a trap! James glanced back into the camp where most of the men were still riding through. He could hear screams of men and horses in the forest as the metal clicking continued. Was it machinery, or the clock slowly winding down the end of time? Which ever it was, Samuel was not going to get away with this.

"The bastard betrayed us Joey!" James shouted, turning his head towards the betrayer. Joey gave a whinny, pawing the ground. Blinded with rage, James swung his sword over his head.

"Samuel!" James shouted. Samuel glared in James's direction. There were shouts of German while the metallic clicks grew in number. "You traitor!" There were more commands in German as James touched his heels to Joey's sides. Joey gave a whinny before charging James's former friend. Time seemed to slow, even crawl as all of James's attention was focused on Samuel. His former friend at first narrowed his eyes, then a smugness formed on his face. He raised his arm, turned his head towards the forest, then gave a command in German. The dead soldier on the dock whispered in James's ear.

_You should have run. Death… run…_

RAT TAT TAT

Searing pain ruptured through James's body. Joey squealed in terror as James felt himself slide sideways off of the still surging horse. The metallic clicks of machine guns filled James's ears, mixed with the sounds of screaming horses and men trapped in the camp. Time and darkness collapsed in on each other as the ground rose up to meet James. He lay there, struggling to breathe as Joey's drumming hoof beats faded away.

Sounds disappeared.

The world turned black.

Time stopped.


	6. Chapter 6

I apologize for all the grammatical and spelling errors in the previous documents. I will go back and fix those!

"Avis! Avis, girl, where are you?" Doctor Edgar Fried shuffled into the ward. His eye roved over the wounded German soldiers in their neat rows of white beds. These soldiers had minor wounds. They will stay here a few days before going back out to the front. But his nurse wasn't in here. Figures. She had a soft spot for the more serious wounded soldiers on the ground floor.

He slowly made his way downstairs, watching various soldiers in rehab climb up and down the stairs. The gentle babble of German was musical to his ears, as soldiers smiled and waved at him.

"Guten tag, guten tag," Edgar muttered. He spied one of his nurses at the bottom of the stairs, and he wondered if she knew where his elusive nurse had gone.

"Have you seen Avis?" he asked the nurse gruffly.

"Nein, Doctor Fried," she shook her head.

"Hurmph, thank you my dear," he muttered. He shuffled into the intensive care unit, where it was quieter. These men were in worse shape than their counterparts upstairs. Despite the care his fellow doctors and himself, many of these men will not be going home. It was a shame. They were young men so far away from home fighting a war that they had no purpose being in. It was sad. But the Kaiser gave the orders, and they were to fight for home and country. All the way out here in France.

Edgar moved slowly through the rows of men, many of them asleep or in too much pain to move. He paused by a pair that had come in together from the scrimmage two days ago. They weren't very old, only boys in his eyes. One of them stirred, whimpering in his sleep before falling back asleep. Edgar knew was going to make it. His friend, he wasn't so sure. He hadn't shown improvement, which was concerning.

Edgar continued shuffling, looking for his young charge. He spied several nurses on the far end of the hall, one of them sitting with an awake soldier. She was reading aloud to him, his bright eyes watching her face. The other two nurses stood nearby, turning from watching the younger nurse to watching him approach.

"Nurse Avis, here you are," he gruffly said. The young woman stopped reading, looking up at him with her wide grey eyes. A stray blonde strip of hair fell out from under her cap, which she tucked behind her ear.

"Herr Doctor," she looked surprised. "I was just reading to this young soldier here."

"I can see that," he nodded. "I need your help with the medical reports. Just as you promised." Her eyes widened in shock.

"I apologize!" she squeaked. "I lost track of time."

"Come on then," he turned away to shuffle off. Avis got to her feet, looking back at the young soldier.

"I will come back later," she smiled sweetly.

"Danke," he smiled back. Avis quickly caught up with him, her warm smile lighting up her face. Avis was the life of the hospital. When she wasn't by Edgar's side she was spreading her smile around the ward. She often acted as if there wasn't even a war raging outside their windows. He would find her leading the men in song, or organizing wheelchair races in the hallways. The men always lit up when she would enter a room, usually with a book or two under an arm.

She was also one of extreme courage. Where many nurses turned away at the sight of the severely wounded, she would immediately jump in to help. She had stood toe-to-toe with unruly soldiers, even took on spooked horses. She never complained, never buckled under pressure, all with a smile.

Edgar opened the door to his office, giving a sigh as he sat down at the desk. Avis immediately began sorting the medial files, taking notes as he dictated.

"… after three days of treatment the patient showed signs of recovery," he rambled, pausing when he noticed that Avis had stopped writing to stare at the page. "Good heavens girl, why aren't you writing?" Avis glanced up, her eyes uncharacteristically sad.

"This is that poor French soldier," her voice was soft. "The one they took away." The doctor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands over his stomach.

"We did our job," he pointed out. "We healed him."

"But they drug him away," she looked back down at the report. "He was younger than myself."

"Why are you mourning him?" he asked. "He is the enemy. We treat whomever they bring in through those doors, but we can not get attached to the ones that we are fighting against." Avis lifted her head, looking at him stubbornly in the eye.

"They are still human," she set her jaw. Doctor shook his finger at her.

"Don't let your father catch you saying that," he warned.

"I could care less what my father the General thinks," her eyes flashed. "He's the one who is purposely setting machine guns against British Calvary." Edgar took a deep breath and released it slowly. He had heard the stories from some of the men about setting up camps to lure the British to the edge of woods before firing at them without mercy. As a doctor, it made him sick. It bothered Avis even more so.

"Well, there isn't much we can do except treat the wounded," he moved on. "Please read back what you have written." Avis tucked the stray hair behind her ear angrily.

_Knock knock_

"Enter," Edgar called out. A nurse poked her head in, giving Avis a knowing look before speaking to doctor.

"Excuse me, Herr Doctor," she spoke.

"Yes Maybel, what is it?"

"General Ankerholtz is arriving," she relayed. "A few of his men need medical attention."

"Have Fanderholt tend to them," he waved her off. "Avis, you may go greet your father if you want." Avis didn't look too pleased but rose to her feet.

"Herr Doctor," Maybel didn't leave, looking anxious.

"What is it?" he started to grow irritated.

"There is a, delicate issue that the General specifically asked for your expertise," Maybel continued, looking between the doctor and Avis.

"What is it?" Avis asked her eyes narrowed slightly. "Did he hurt himself ambushing another helpless British Calvary?"

"Avis," Edgar warned.

"Not himself," Maybel said. "But a British soldier. A Captain I believe." Avis whirled around to look at Edgar, who was getting to his feet as quickly as he could.

"How bad?" he asked, hobbling towards the door.

"Bad," Maybel turned pale. Avis continued to stare at him, looking determined.

"Avis, go start preparations and go greet your father," he ordered. "I'll be right down." Avis responded by sweeping out of the office. Edgar headed for the door, making his way downstairs as the first sounds of the oncoming storm reached his ears.

The courtyard was filled with German soldiers, with all eyes on an imposing looking man climbing down from his pawing charger. Avis had her chin lifted, watching him with disapproving eyes. The man looked down at his daughter before turning to Edgar.

"Ah, Dr. Fried," the General smiled. "I am glad to see that you have been taking very good care of my daughter."

"She is a tremendous help and the men love her," Edgar replied.

"Excellent," the General glanced back at Avis, who was watching a couple of wagons roll into the courtyard. "I have a few men who need tending to."

"Of course," Edgar replied, watching as the few men were unloaded from the first wagon. However, Avis's and his attention were on the second wagon. It wasn't the unusual horse pairing pulling the wagon, one all black while the other was a proud chestnut who was watching the gathered crowd with intelligent eyes, but the fact that there were a number of soldiers guarding it.

A weasel-looking young man about Avis's age rode up alongside the General, though he wasn't in uniform. Judging by the tack on the horse, he was British. Though, he didn't look like a wounded Captain. He hungrily stared at Avis, who glared right back.

"This is Corporeal Perkins, formally of the British army," the General said smugly. "He was instrumental in our success the past few weeks, especially this morning." Edgar immediately didn't like the young man. There was something predatory about him as he looked down at the two men.

"You recruited a traitor," Edgar muttered. The General laughed.

"Of course not," the General shook his head. "He's always been on our side." Perkins grinned, flashing a wolfish grin.

"I'm guessing that the Captain is in that heavily guarded wagon," Edgar nodded in its direction. Perkin's grin vanished.

"Ah, yes, him," the General shot a glance at the Corporeal. "Get him fixed up enough to talk. That's all I ask."

"I've told you," Perkins rolled his eyes. "Nicholls won't talk. He's too much of an officer to say anything. You'll have a better chance with the Major. You should have finished Nicholls off in the field." Edgar felt sick. They were talking as if they were speaking about a wounded dog rather than a person. He could see Avis frowning in anger, knowing that she was very much listening to the conversation.

"We'll discuss that later," the General rounded on the traitor. "I leave these men in your capable hands, Herr Doctor. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a British Major to interrogate. I will be back to speak with the Captain." The General strode off, barking an order to the men guarding the second wagon. The German soldiers had been taken inside already, so all that was left were the British.

Several soldiers had disappeared inside the wagon, roughly pushing the Major out of the wagon. The tall, lanky man held his head high, despite the terror in his eyes. The General muscled his way to him, staring the poor man down.

"Sticking to the past got those under your command killed," the General said gleefully. "Calvary doesn't stand a chance against the superiority of the technology of the German military! Idiots! You never learn!" The General swatted a heavy paw against the man's face, sending him sprawling against the back of the wagon. Edgar drew himself up, seeing enough.

"General!" he called out. "If you don't mind, I have a patient I need to attend to. You're in the way." The General frowned, but barked out an order. Soldiers swarmed the prisoner, heading off to the other side of the building. Satisfied, Edgar turned to the waiting medical team.

"Take him to medical room four," he ordered. "Avis, with me." Edgar headed inside, Avis following angrily in his wake. The medical room was a buzz with activity, waiting for their patient to arrive. Edgar drew Avis off to the side, her eyes still flashing dangerously.

"Avis," he kept his voice calm. "No matter what happens, our role is to save this man's life."

"So he can be led to slaughter?" Avis hissed.

"No," Edgar gently took her shoulders. "Because it is the right thing to do. As long as he is within our walls, he is under our protection. Do you understand?" She firmly nodded her head. He gave her a faint smile as commotion outside the door drew their attention.

The medical team hurriedly brought the man in, setting the stretcher down on the table. To Edgar's surprise, the Captain was somewhat awake. He was ashen, in clear pain and distress, his intense green eyes looking around in confusion and terror. Every small movement he made resulted in pain.

"Get the blanket off of him, let us see what the damage is," Edgar ordered grimly. One of the nurses removed the blanket, everyone freezing in shock. His uniform was soaked in blood, with no clear indication on how many wounds he had.

"Uniform, off," Edgar ordered. The team hesitantly moved in. The Captain shrank back, weakly trying to hold off the numerous hands reaching for him. He cried out, more out of fear than in pain.

"Back off," Avis growled, pushing the medical team away. "He's terrified. We need to get him to calm down before we try to help him." She looked down at him, gently taking one of his hands as she smiled gently. The Captain was on the verge of hyperventilating, his eyes as wide as a trapped rabbit.

"Hello," Avis spoke in her limited English. "We are here to help. I am Avis." The Captain seemed fixed on her voice, his breathing still quickened but slowing. His mouth moved, causing Avis to have to lean down in order to hear what he was saying. Her smiled brightened a little as she stood back up.

"Hello James," she continued to smile. "Please, let us help you." Still looking like a terrified child, the Captain slowly nodded his head, glancing around at the gathered crowd of medics. Edgar watched as Avis and several others managed to get the uniform jacket off of the Captain. Avis continued to talk softly to James in her broken English, while he hung on to her every word.

With the Captain distracted, Edgar was able to look the young man over. There were at least six bullet wounds, with a considerable amount of blood loss. He was lucky. Four of the wounds were deep grazes, while two had actual bullets. Edgar gave orders softly, not wanting to startle the young man.

The young Captain's eyes rolled up into the back of his head, finally passing out from the lack of blood. Avis checked his pulse, relaxing and nodding her head.

"How is he?" Edgar asked.

"Just unconscious," she replied, looking over his face as if in a trance. Edgar frowned at her.

"Avis," he barked. She jumped, looking at him with startled eyes. "Oogle on your own time. It's not as if you haven't seen a British man before."

"He's different," she replied softly. Edgar rolled his eyes.

"He won't be different if he dies from blood loss," Edgar muttered. "Get to work missy." Avis moved with a determined spirit, bullying the other nurses into action.

Two exhausting hours later, Edgar and Avis stood over the young man. He was resting, the bandaging rising and falling as he steadily breathed. Edgar took the Captain's pulse, glad to find it weak yet steady. He was going to be weak for several days, but was going to make a full recovery. Avis straightened out the sheet, looking over his bandages before brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face.

"He'll be fine," Edgar said gruffly.

"Until father decides to kill him," Avis said harshly. Edgar folded his arms over his chest. Avis was quite smitten with the young Captain, which could be heartbreaking. As long as the Captain remained under Edgar's care, he was safe. But once the General decided that enough was enough, the young probably wouldn't live much longer.

"Avis," Edgar shifted his feet. "Don't get attached to him. Only while he remains with us will he be safe. However, your father will come for him, and there won't be anything we can do." Avis looked down at the Captain, determination on her face.

"He can't have this one," she said fiercely. "I won't let him." Edgar gave a heavy sigh.

The doors to the ward flung open, the click of boots on tile clacking as they approached their end of the room. Avis looked thunderous, while Edgar turned to face the intruders of the peace.

"Edgar," the General said a little too loudly, causing the young Captain to stir in his sleep, furrowing his brow.

"This is a place for healing," Edgar muttered quietly. "Please keep your voice down." The General stood over Edgar, his small eyes burrowing into him.

"How long until I can question him?" the General demanded, wrinkling his nose at the young Captain.

"His name is James," Avis said fiercely. The General frowned at his daughter.

"You need to know your place," he growled at her. "You are to help aide the Doctor, not grow attachments. Don't make me send you home." Avis flushed in anger as she lifted her chin defiantly. Edgar moved so he was in front of the General, trying to bring the conversation back around. He didn't want an argument to erupt in here.

"I don't have a clear number of days until you're able to talk with our young guest here," Edgar interrupted.

"You have three days," the General's voice was firm. "I will question him, then take him out back and shoot him like the English dog that he is. Just like that worthless Major." Edgar felt sick as Avis's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That is enough," Edgar stood toe-to-toe with the General. "Leave my ward, now." The General bared his teeth.

"Three days, Doctor," the General said in a low voice. "In three days, I will be back for the dog." The General turned on his heel, his boots clacking on the way out. The other men followed him out, including the smug, traitorous Perkins.

The ward fell silent, save the occasional groan or cough. Edgar turned to look at Avis, her furious eyes filled with unshed tears. Edgar knew that look.

"I don't know how my father can be so cruel," she whispered, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve.

"Your father is doing what he believes is right," Edgar replied. "He has sworn an oath to serve King and Country, very much like your ward here." He waved a hand at the sleeping Captain. "He is doing it for you." Avis balled her hands into fists.

"By killing a young man just because he wears a different uniform and speaks another language?" she hissed. "It revolts me. If he loved me like a true father, he wouldn't be doing this." Edgar gave a sigh.

"There is nothing you can do about it now," Edgar ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Come, you need some rest."

"I want to stay with him," Avis drug a chair over, sitting stubbornly at the head of the bed.

"Fine," Edgar said gruffly, turning to leave. "Let me know if there is any change in his condition." He slowly shuffled out of the room. He paused in the doorway to watch Avis. She was leaning over the young Captain, talking to him softly. Edgar felt his chest tighten in worry. Nothing good was going to come out of this situation. He feared what the next few days would bring.


	7. Chapter 7

Voices.

Bright light.

James's breathing was loud in his ears as he tried to make sense of where he was. Sounds were still indiscernible, but he was starting to see shapes. He blinked his eyes several times, each time his vision becoming clearer.

James began to realize why he couldn't understand the garble around him: he was hearing German. He was dead. It was the only explanation. He had died and landed in hell.

All James could remember was seeing his traitorous friend betraying the company as pain exploded in his body. The rest felt like a nightmare. It flashed in front of his eyes, scenes that didn't make sense or frightened him.

Samuel looking down at him, laughing.

Harsh words in a foreign tongue as a horse bugled nearby.

Jarring pain.

More harsh words.

Faces behind masks, staring down at him silently.

Hands reaching out for him, pulling at his clothes as he tried to fight them off.

Out of the dizzying hell, came an angel.

She had been looking down at him, her warm smile causing her face to glow. She had asked for his name, the soothing tones of English comforting to his ears. Some small part of him encouraged him to trust her enough to give his name. She had smiled at him, telling him that he was going to be alright. It was then that he allowed himself to be claimed by the unconscious.

However, as his eyes began to close, the dead soldier's voice hoarsely whispered all around him.

_You should have run when you had the chance…_

He must have died in his sleep, his body betraying him to the gates of hell. There were strange men in white coats standing nearby, talking in low alien voices. Several nurses moved around the room, talking softly to men lying in beds the length of the room.

James tried not to move his head so attention couldn't be drawn to him. That and any movement caused pain to ripple through his body. His bed was against the wall, away from the other wounded. A lone German soldier leaned against the wall, a book in hand.

James tested his limbs, each movement sending shooting pain from what seemed like four, maybe six wounds in various places. He could move his feet, but something was wrapped around his wrists. He glanced down, noticing that they were bound to the bed. James's heart began to pound: he was a prisoner.

The men in white coats stopped talking, the German soldier lowering his book as they noticed James's movement. He froze, his eyes flickering back and forth between them. He was wounded, bound, unable to defend himself. They were going to kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

One of the men, an older gentleman, broke away from the group to slowly approach the side of the bed. The soldier brushed his hand against the pistol at his hip. James's heart raced faster, his eyes not leaving the pistol. The older man glared at the soldier, who quickly removed his hand from the weapon. The man shook his head, frowning at the soldier before looking down at James.

The man had a stern face, but sad eyes. He looked James up and down before reaching down to touch one of the bandages. James flinched away, his eyes fixed on the man. He stood up straight with an annoyed sigh.

"Ich bin Doktor Fried. Wie fühlst du dich?"

James raised his eyebrows. In the fog of his pain-filled mind, James was able to discern that the man was actually a doctor. Though, he had no idea what he had just said. Doctor Fried waited a few moments before repeating his question. James shook his head slightly, still not able to understand what he was saying. James's training kicked in on what to do when captured. Though the other men had joked about rather being killed in action with honor over being captured, James had made sure that his men understood this important procedure.

James drew a breath, his throat dry. His voice was scratchy, weak after the lack of use and trauma, "Captain James Nicholls. Royal British Calvary, 32nd Company."

Doctor Fried continued to look down at him, this time with a frown. He looked away from James, searching for something. His grumpy look returned as he found who he was looking for.

"Avis! Kommen Sie bitte hier!"

James started to panic. He didn't know who or what Avis was, but the doctor's tone suggested that it wasn't pleasant. James's eyes flickered over to the soldier, who was staring at James as if he were something revolting.

To James's surprise, his angel came running up to the bed. Her face looked worried as she looked at the doctor, but smiled when she realized that James was awake.

"Er weiß nicht, Deutsch," the doctor spoke to her. "Können Sie fragen, wie er sich fühlt?" His angel gave a laugh, a soothing balm in his unreal situation.

"Wahrscheinlich machte ihm angst, das arme Ding," she scolded the doctor lightly as he rolled his eyes skywards.

"Fragen Sie ihn," he sounded gruff. His angel gave another laugh before turning to look at James. He felt his breath catch in his throat as her grey eyes filled his vision.

"Hello James," her voice was soft as she gently covered his bound hand with her free one. "My name is Avis. How do you feel?" James couldn't speak for a moment. He felt his mouth slightly open, feeling like an idiot that he couldn't speak to her. Her eyes narrowed slightly in concern before glancing up at the doctor. "War er früher gesagt?" The doctor nodded as Avis looked back down at James.

"Ah…" James managed to get out. Avis brightened a little.

"Good," she encouraged.

"Hurt," James got the word out. Avis immediately frowned.

"Ja," she nodded her head. "You were hurt badly." She motioned to the stern faced doctor. "Doctor Fried fixed wounds." She held up six fingers. James shut his eyes briefly. Six bullet wounds. Six bullets that should have ended his life. Why had he been spared? More importantly, why would the Germans save his life? He opened his eyes again, catching Avis looking over each of the bandages with a critical eye. She noticed that his eyes were open again, a bit of color appearing on her cheeks.

"Why?" he asked softly. She tilted her head to the side, a piece of golden hair escaping from under her cap. She automatically tucked it behind an ear, a motion that she apparently had done multiple times before.

"We heal," she said firmly. She didn't continue, suggesting that she didn't as good a grasp on English as he thought she would be.

A pair of boots clicking on the tile caused Doctor Fried to look up and scowl. The German soldier stood up straight as Avis turned then rose in one fluid motion. She placed herself between James and the approaching person, so he couldn't see whom Avis was protecting him from.

"Es ist noch nicht Zeit," her voice sounded threatening.

"Ich möchte nur an die guten Kapitän sprechen."

James felt his blood run cold. The words sounded strange in the mouth that the voice belonged to. Doctor Fried had quickly moved to gently pull Avis out of the way, though was still close enough to come to James's aid if needed.

Samuel stared down at him, a wolfish smile on his face.

James balled his hands into fists, wishing that he had the reach to punch that grin right off of his face.

"Bloody traitor," James growled. Avis looked slightly alarmed at James's change as Samuel slowly inched closer.

"No, I just picked the winning side," Samuel said casually.

"You swore an oath to defend King and Country!" James shouted. "You led men, boys really, into a trap like a lamb to slaughter!"

"But to who's King and Country did I swear to?" Samuel sneered. "I was born in Germany, did you know that? My mother brought me to England while I was still an infant, fleeing a father whom I never got to meet. Germany is my blood, not the stiff English filth that runs through yours." James's heart was pounding in his chest as his mind tried to wrap around what he had just heard.

"I thought you were the son of an earl," James questioned.

"Adopted son of an earl," Samuel's voice was cold. "He married my mother. He had no love of me." They stared at each other in silence as Samuel collected himself.

"Where is everyone else?" James asked, afraid of the answer.

"Who?"

"The rest of the company."

Samuel's face turned from annoyed to sinister. "Fallen before the metal of change. The age of Calvary is over, you yourself have said this. You were supposed to die, but General Ankerholtz wanted officers to question." James felt sick. Every single one of those men and boys he had led, gone. Jovial Leonard, innocent Jack, trusting David. Oh David! David had followed him without a second thought. He had trusted James.

"The Major we brought back with you," Samuel continued. "General Ankerholtz got what he needed from him, before…" Samuel extended his thumb and index finger, shutting eye before cocking the imaginary gun at James's head. James felt rage fill him, the binds around his wrists digging into his skin.

Samuel's laugh was cold and thin as James collapsed back against the bed. He felt like lead, his head spinning and aching as tears stung his eyes.

"You have no soul," James fought back his emotions. "You sold your soul to the Devil and may you rot in hell for it! Leading men to slaughter then celebrating as a man's life is cut short before your eyes! What kind of monster are you?" Samuel lunged so he was leaning over James, their faces almost touching. Samuel curled his upper lip into a sneer.

"The same monster who will cry out with glee when a similar bullet goes through your head," he hissed, placing a single finger between James's eyes. "After the General gleans whatever information he thinks he can get from you, you'll be taken out like the worthless dog you are." James spat in Samuel's face, causing him to jerk upright. And ugly scowl formed across his face, drawing his arm back.

Lights danced before James's eyes as Samuel slapped him hard across the face. Face stinging, he looked up at his former friend.

"You're dead, Nicholls," Samuel snarled.

"Bugger off, traitor," James growled back.

Samuel looked as if he were to slap James again, but Doctor Fried stopped him. He began scolding Samuel in German as Avis returned to James's side. She stared Samuel down as he gave her a wolfish grin, reached out to stroke her cheek. She slapped his hand away, Samuel looking annoyed by her rejection. He gave the pair seething glares before stalking away angrily.

James hurt all over. His wounds were aflame with pain, along with the knot in his chest from damming back the inevitable flood of tears. His vision grew blurry as nurse and doctor babbled away in German to each other. They both fell silent as the first sob escaped him, the dam bursting as the sense of loss came crashing down on him.

Death had not eluded him, he had died on that battlefield. He had been sent to hell to live out every single death of every single man who had followed him into the storm of metal. Eternal pain, eternal anguish.

He felt hands gently brushing away the tears on his face. He rough pulled his head away, crying out as his wounds stretched with his movement. He was able to turn his head to see Avis looking down at him, biting her lip with worry.

"What can I do?" she asked softly as she took his bound hand.

"You should have let me die," James turned his head to look up at the ceiling, his voice raw.

"You are to live," she squeezed his hand. James continued to not look at her.

"To be taken out behind a shed and shot like an unwanted dog? No," he lamented. "Even if I do live, I will be haunted by those who followed me, who trusted me. That is not living. You should have let me die."

He had no idea if she understood him or not. He heard Doctor Fried say something softly to Avis, who slowly released his hand. She stood over him, her face wrinkled in an attempt for her to not cry. Maybe she did understand some of what he had said.

"You are bleeding," her voice was hushed. "We are changing your bandages." He didn't respond to her, continuing to stare at the white, sterile ceiling. Doctor Fried talked softly in German as the pair began to work.

James was too exhausted, too much in pain to care. He would wince or give a soft cry as his wounds were being treated. He felt numb, not caring anymore. The faces of the lost floated before his eyes as they slowly closed. Even in exhausted sleep, he wept.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for being patient! Between getting my novel ready for agents to reject and prepping getting back to teaching I've been a little busy! And thank you to Anna the Lynx for pointing out my error. I will go back and fix that in the earlier chapters, I promise! I also changed it so Avis doesn't know James's name yet, so don't let that confuse you.

The candle flickered in Avis's hands as she slipped into the intensive care ward. All of the men were asleep, some restlessly, as the night nurses made their rounds. She silently walked past, the other nurses ignoring her as she headed past.

The Captain was asleep when she arrived, a different soldier standing guard. He didn't seem interested in her, going back to the book he was reading. Avis set the candle down on the bed stand, looking down at her sleeping charge.

His head was turned towards her, his mouth open slightly with his brow furrowed. He was slightly restless, his wrists squirming against their binds. He suddenly started to twitch, the nightmare taking hold as a small cry escaped his lips.

The soldier on duty looked up sharply, giving Avis a startled look. Avis quickly took the Captain's face in her hands, gently brushing hair out of his eyes. He woke briefly, his breathing rapid. His eyes were glassy in the dim light, before closing them again. His breathing slowed, dropping back into sleep.

Avis stood up, staring down at him as her eyes quickly assessed his bandages. They had been changed earlier, not showing any signs of needing to be changed until morning. Her eyes lingered on his chest, before traveling up to his strong shoulders and down his muscled arms. His eyes held the nobility of someone who was born into a high-brow family. Though his body showed that he wasn't unfamiliar with hard work.

She felt as if someone was staring at her. She slowly glanced up, before blushing when she caught the soldier staring at her.

"Was guckst du, Soldat?" she frowned at him.

"Ich entschuldige mich, Frauline," the solder quickly looked down at his book. Avis quickly snatched up the candle, turning on her heel to stride out of the room. Avis felt her face grow warm, though she wasn't sure why. Sure, the Captain was nice to look at, but then why did her eyes linger?

Avis stopped to lean against the wall, suddenly aware of her racing pulse and shallow breathing. Everything was telling her that she was attracted to him, however, she couldn't. She couldn't grow attached to him. If her father went through with his plan, her heart would only break.

But she couldn't get him out of her head.

Avis fled for outside, the chilly night air making her aware of how warm her face was. The rest of her body shivered slightly, causing her to wrap her arms around her torso. A thought of the Captain's arms wrapping around her, drawing her in close…

Stop it.

She was a grown woman, not a girl with the moon in her eyes sighing over an attractive young man. Even if he was like an angel, with those eyes…

Oh stop it Avis.

She stepped out into the courtyard, walking around the corner with only the lights of the distant housing for the visiting military personnel. She knew her father was in there, probably sleeping well without any second thought to what he was about to do to her Captain.

Her Captain. She kind of liked the sound of that.

Oh stop it.

She noticed that the door to the stable was open, curiosity drawing her in. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, though it wasn't much warmer in here than outside. She could see the outlines of horses, most of them asleep. There was the occasional scrape of a hoof as one of them would shift in their sleep.

Her eyes fell on the chestnut horse watching her over the top of his stall. His eyes were intelligent, for a horse. She noticed that his friend, the giant black one, was missing. Avis carefully approached the chestnut, his eyes watching her as she reached out to stroke his velvety nose. The horse stretched out his neck to blow warm air in her face, causing her to laugh softly.

"Hello," she whispered. "You're the Captain's mount, aren't you?" The horse gave a soft whicker in response. Avis gently stroked the horse, one of his liquid eyes watching her.

"Your Captain is wounded, but he'll recover physically," she felt compelled to tell the horse. "But, his heart is broken. He has lost his will to live. That traitor betrayed him, betrayed you all. Now my father wants to torture the Captain for information before he kills him. I can't let that happen. But I don't know how to prevent it." It may have been a trick of the dim light, but it seemed as if the big horse had been listening to her. No, it couldn't have.

The horse suddenly flicked his head up, turning to watch the door. The steady clop of approaching horses on the cobblestones alerted Avis to the approaching riders. She looked around frantically for a place to hide. She spied several large crates nearby, and she ducked behind them just as the riders entered the stables.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she recognized the traitor astride the big black horse. Avis bit her lip to keep from gasping out loud at the condition of the poor animal. He was soaked through with sweat, foam gathering around the bit. He labored for breath, though the traitor hadn't seemed to notice. He was too busy watching the handful of men who had ridden in after him.

"Go inform the General that the British Calvary will be moving in three days," his eyes glittered wolf-like. "We should move into position as quickly as possible." The soldiers dismounted and fled into the darkness, leaving the Corporal to dismount.

He gave the black horse a minimum rub down before turning him into his stall. The chestnut's ears laid flat against his skull, pawing angrily at the floor. The Corporal stormed over to the horse, swatting him hard across the nose. The horse flicked his head back with a squeal. Avis gave a slight gasp, quickly stifling it so she wouldn't draw attention to herself.

"I knew I didn't like you," the Corporal sneered at the horse. "The Captain really thought you were something special. But guess what, you're not. After I put a bullet between your rider's eyes, expect me to do the same to you. You're dog meat!"

"Corporal!"

Avis couldn't be happier to see her father standing in the doorway. A deep frown was on his face, watching the Corporal slowly slink towards him.

"The doctor is asleep," her father spoke slowly. "If we are to interrogate your Captain…"

"He is not my Captain," he hissed.

"If we are to interrogate him," her father continued, "we must do it now."

"What about the nurse, your daughter?" the Corporal gave an unpleasant smile. "She seems to be quite smitten with him." Avis swore it was a trick of the light, but she thought that her father had a glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

"She won't be any trouble," her father replied. "I'm sending her back home. Hopefully she'll find a nice German man to help her forget about all of this." The Corporal had a contemplative look on his face, then shook his head to clear the thought that had been there. He gave the General a dangerous grin.

"How shall we go about the interrogation, sir?" the Corporal bared his teeth. The General gave him a wary look.

"We are going to interrogate, not torture," the General warned. "If he doesn't give the information, we will simply take him out back. Quick, clean, simple. I am a little uncomfortable with how aggressive you were with the British General. I will allow you to pull the trigger, but you must do it on my terms. Is that understood?" Avis was glad to see an annoyed flicker cross the Corporal's face as he was forced to agree.

"He still won't say anything," the Corporal grumbled.

"Then this will be quick now will it?" her father responded, turning to leave. "Come on, let's get this over with."

Avis waited for the two men to leave the stables before emerging from her hiding place. She didn't realize that she was shaking slightly, realizing that she was swiftly running out of time.

"Be ready," she whispered to the horses, giving their noses a pat. Plans were running wild in her head as she sprinted to the main building. She had to pass the intensive care ward, which was filled with her father's men as they pounced on the unsuspecting Captain. He gave a shout of alarm and pain, English words she didn't understand echoing about the room, but she had to leave him. It pained her to leave him defenseless like this, but it will save his life.

Avis burst into her room, startling awake her roommate Elise.

"Wha…? Avis! What is going on?" Elise didn't sound awake.

"Father is going to kill the Captain," Avis rushed to put on riding clothes. Elise gave her a confused look.

"Who? What Captain?" Elise rubbed her eyes.

"The British one," Avis didn't stop as she quickly began to pack. Elise gave a groan.

"You are obsessed with that one," Elise eyed her frantic friend. "Why are you dashing about?"

"Father is going to kill him!" Avis nearly shouted, pausing long enough to glare at her.

"Isn't he under Doctor Fried's protection until he is somewhat healed?" Elise asked as Avis finished packing.

"Apparently not," Avis growled. She looked into her friend's eyes. "I need your help."

"Oh no, I'm not getting into this," Elise scooted father away from her. Avis bounded to her friend's side, taking her hands in her own.

"Elise, please," Avis pleaded. "Just because he speaks another language doesn't mean he needs to be killed for it. They already killed his commanding officer just because he wouldn't betray his fellow countrymen. Please, Elise, for me?"

Avis waited fearfully as Elise looked her over. The minutes seemed to drag by as she awaited the answer, precious time that Avis didn't have.

"Fine," Elise begrudgingly agreed. "What can I do?"

"Oh thank you!" Avis squealed, tackling Elise in a hug. She jumped to her feet, grabbing the bag. "I need you to go to Doctor Fried, tell him what's going on. Tell him to meet me in the stables."

"What is your plan?" Elise quickly slipped clothes on. Avis paused.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you," Avis toyed with the bag strap. "If they ask you where I've gone, it will be disastrous for us." Elise grabbed Avis's arm, looking fearful.

"Please be careful," she pleaded. Avis smiled.

"I will."

Avis slipped out the door as Elise ran towards the Doctor's quarters. Avis was going to be cutting it short, but the plan was all she had. Adrenaline racing through her, she ran back to the stables.

The black and chestnut horse both poked their heads over the stall doors, ears pricked forward in anticipation. She recovered the tack, her fingers trailing over the Captain's saddle before shaking out of her daze. This was not the time to fantasize.

The black horse stood patiently as she prepped him. She was going to have to ride this huge animal, since the Captain was more used to riding the chestnut. He wasn't going to be in much shape to ride, so riding the horse he was more used to will make things a little easier.

The two horses seemed to know what was going on, and stood patiently for her as she finished putting the last buckles in place. She hoped that everything was put on correctly since her hands were shaking so much. She stepped back, admiring the two knights that would be helping her rescue this unusual damsel in distress. This was like the fairy tales she had grown up with. Except it was her turn to come to the rescue.

"You both ready?" she whispered. The chestnut tossed his head, his harness jangling. Avis pulled herself up on the black horse, her stomach swooping when she realized how high up she was. She clung to the thin saddle, wishing she had something more to hand on to.

"Frauline Avis! What in God's name are you doing?"

Avis looked down as Doctor Fried huffed into the stables, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"I'm going to rescue the Captain, and you can't stop me," Avis stubbornly lifted her chin. To her surprise, he chuckled at her.

"On horseback?" he raised an eyebrow. Avis wasn't sure what hole in her plot he was pointing out.

"Like how Lancelot rescue Guinevere," Avis toyed with the reins in her hand.

"Not by yourself you aren't," Doctor Fried scolded, gently maneuvering the chestnut so he could get onto his back. The chestnut looked a little confused, but remained still.

"You can't go with me!" Avis protested.

"Sush, silly girl," Doctor Fried clucked. "I'm too old to go riding off into fairy tales. Listen, here is my idea."


	9. Chapter 9

James fell onto his hands, pain shooting through his torso as the jolt shocked his still healing wounds. Weak, dizzy, and disoriented, James felt his arms give out and he collapsed onto the floor. The cold tile was welcoming in his pain. He could taste the metallic sharp taste of blood in his mouth, and he spat it out onto the floor.

He had been drug out of sleep by rough hands and even rougher language. Even though he was medicated and woozy from his injuries, he could still catch the few words of German he knew. He was hauled into what looked like a surgical room, dumped unceremoniously onto the ground were the German General and Samuel looked down at him.

The questioning and torture was excruciating. He had gone through the training so he knew what it should have been. It should have been questions and enough physical torture to try to get him to talk. However, Samuel had made it different, so very different.

James looked up at his former friend, who was casually leaning against the wall. An unpleasant, wolf-like smile was on his face. The General nodded to the soldiers that were also in the room, and James was forced upright.

"Captain, you are only making it harder on yourself," the General shook his head.

"I will not betray my country," James said his best through the pain. He gave Samuel a sharp look. "Unlike some." Samuel's eyes flashed dangerously, storming over to backhand James. If the soldiers hadn't held James upright, he would have been flung back to the tile.

Face stinging from the hit, James forced himself to look at his former friend. The General had pulled Samuel back, scolding him harshly in German. Samuel, at first, didn't look as if he was going to back down. After a few tense minutes, Samuel returned to slumping against the wall. His furious eyes burned into James, waiting.

"Now, Captain," the General continued, keeping one on Samuel, "you will tell us what you know of the Calvary moving." James, shaking from shock, lifted his chin defiantly to look the General straight in the eye.

"No," James said darkly.

"No," the General repeated quietly. Was that, a flicker of sadness in his eyes? James briefly shut his eyes. The pain must be tricking his mind.

"I told you, sir, that he wasn't going to talk," Samuel drawled. The General ran a hand through his hair as he looked down at James.

"It is a shame," the General said quietly. "My daughter liked you. But then, she needs to learn to not set your heart on something that is marked for death." James raised an eyebrow in surprise. The nurse that he had been a little rude to was the General's daughter? He knew that she was just trying to be kind to him, but she liked him?

"Captain James Nicholls," the General's voice was heavy, "for your lack of cooperation you will be taken out back and executed. Is there any words you wish to speak now?"

James's heart was hammering in his chest as he shut his eyes momentarily. His throat tightened as he tried to fight down his emotions. He wasn't ready to die. Taking a few breaths, he pried his eyes open again. The General looked blurry through the tears coating his eyes.

"My, death," James spoke slowly, trying his best to keep his voice level, "is for my king, and for my country. I fight for my home, and for those whom I love. I am an officer of the British Army. You may take my life from me, but Britain will stand and be forever."

The General just stared down at James with a sad expression. He gave a heavy sigh before nodding his head.

"Brave words, Captain," the General responded, before turning to walk up to Samuel. He spoke briefly before turning away from him.

Samuel looked delighted at the General's words, waiting for him to leave the room before turning all of his attention on James.

James felt his mouth go dry as Samuel approached him. There was an evil glimmer in Samuel's eyes, a predatory grin on his face. Staring down at James, he gave a sharp order to the soldiers. Though he was numb with shock and pain, James felt the soldiers jerk him to his feet. Before he could recover from the new wave of pain, Samuel stepped in closer.

James gave a gurgled cry as Samuel drove a fist into his stomach. James fell to the floor again, curled up around his throbbing abdomen. He should have known that Samuel wasn't going to let him off this easily. Samuel was going to play with him first, causing as much pain and grief as possible before snatching his life away from him at the last possible moment.

"I've been waiting for this moment," Samuel sounded delighted. "Oh, have I waited for this moment." James drug his body onto his hands and knees, his arms shaking as they could barely support him.

His side exploded with pain as Samuel roughly kicked him. James rolled onto his back, unable to hold back the torrent of tears and cries of pain. He was pulled onto his knees again, Samuel grabbing James's hair to force his head back.

"The General has given me the honor of killing you," Samuel sounded calm. "After I put the bullet between your eyes, I'm going to do the same to that damn horse of yours." James's eyes went wide in fear.

"No…" James fought to speak through the pain. "Please… Not, Joey…" Samuel cuffed him in the ear, causing James to suck in a breath of air.

"Maybe after I'm done with you both, I might make a pass at that pretty nurse," Samuel sounded pleased with himself. "She may have spurned my advances, but her father might change her mind for her. I say that I have earned such a beautiful award."

"You revolt me," James growled. "She doesn't deserve you."

"Better me than a dead man," Samuel flashed his teeth again. "Oh, she might weep over you for a moment, but she'll turn to me."

"Bastard," James spat. Something dangerous filled Samuel's face before he ferociously attacked. Samuel's fists flew, striking James from all angles. James tried to fight Samuel off, managing to push against Samuel's face.

The beating continued for what seemed like forever to James. He at first didn't notice when Samuel stopped as he struggled to remain conscious. When he did realize that the assault was over, James slowly and carefully unfolded himself from the fetal position he ended up in.

Samuel towered over him as James lay on the floor with labored breath. He glanced at the soldiers, giving a sharp command before moving out of James's line of sight. James was forced to his feet, before being escorted out the door.

The frigid night air slammed into James, sending his already shocked body into spasms. The soldiers didn't wait for James to recover, half-dragging him through the darkness.

The rushing along in the darkness, the calls in German, and the blinding pain made it difficult for James to think. Though there wasn't much for him to think about. He was being rushed to his death, every heartbeat being one less left.

James was blinded when he came around the corner. Numerous lights had been trained on the dusty patch loosely ringed with soldiers milling about. With their arrival, the soldiers didn't stop talking but did turn to watch them. James felt every eye on him as he was unceremoniously dumped in the patch of light.

James pulled himself to his knees, shivering from cold and shock. The soldiers continued to mill around, not looking too interested in James or his fate. Samuel was on the outer edge, calmly looking over a pistol. He took his time, but made sure that everything was in full-view of James. No one had restrained or stood guard over James. They must have all assumed that he was too weak and injured to make a run for it, which was true. James could barely sit up straight on his own, let alone run.

This was it, he wasn't going to live for much longer. He was only alive because Samuel was toying with him and wanting to make his suffering last.

Samuel tossed something up and down in his hand as he sauntered over to James's spot on the ground. He held out the object in his hand and James flinched away from it automatically.

It was a bullet.

"This one is for you," Samuel sneered. "I felt it was necessary for you to see what was going to kill you before I pulled the trigger."

"May you rot in hell," James growled.

Samuel gave a dangerous grin. "I'll see you there. Since we're on the subject, I'll give you a few moments to make amends with your maker. Don't know what good that will do, though." Samuel turned heel to head back to the group he had been with earlier.

James shivered, wrapping his arms around his torso in a futile attempt to block out the cold. He doubled over, hanging his head before slowly closing his eyes.

"Lord," he whispered. "I don't know if you can hear me or my plea. Take my life, but spare Joey. He is a long way from home and just wants to go home to his friend. Give him wings to run swift and true and away from this terrible place. And, I know I shouldn't be asking this, but forgive Samuel. I don't know what turned his heart against the world, but guide him back to life. As for me, I commit myself to your hands. Make my passing as easy and painless as possible."

Feeling calmer, James reopened his eyes. The gravel was digging into his knees, yet he didn't feel as cold anymore. Weary, James lifted his head. Samuel and the others were joking about, Samuel waving the gun about with a smug look on his face. It looked as if he were telling a story, parts which sent the men into bouts of laughter. They largely ignored James, who waited patiently. He wasn't going anywhere.

Something flickered out of the corner of his eye, causing James to turn his head. There, standing in the middle of a group of soldiers but unnoticed by them, was the dead soldier.

James was a bit alarmed to see him, but then relaxed slightly. Maybe he was there to guide James after… after it was all over. Except, the dead soldier looked a bit irritated to see him. Could ghosts be irritated? Why would he be irritated at James?

_Run…_

James gave him a look of surprise.

"I can't run," James whispered, making sure none of the other soldiers were watching.

_Run young fool!_

"I can't!" James hissed. The ghost looked furious.

_When the time comes, run!_

The ghost faded away, leaving James alone. His mind whirled from pain and the unhappy ghost. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, a last shred of hope of life while facing death. That had to been it. It was all in his head.

Samuel noticed that James was looking about. He sauntered over to him, the other soldiers flanking then spreading out behind him. The metal of the pistol glinted in the dim light. James made a show of placing the bullet into the weapon, tenderly going over each part with one eye on James' face. After much pomp, the weapon was loaded. James flicked his eyes between the gun and Samuel, wondering how long Samuel was going to drag this out for.

"Such a simple thing it is, killing a man," Samuel spoke softly, turning the weapon over in his hands. "All I have to do is pull a mechanism, and you're gone in a second. It does the work for me, I just have to point it in the right direction and pull a lever."

"I'm sure your new General said the same thing about you," James said coldly. Samuel slammed the gun across James' face. This time, James fell over. He didn't stay down for long as two soldiers hurried to his side to drag him upright. Samuel's eyes narrowed at him.

"Maybe I should have shot the horse in front of you first," Samuel spat. "Just to break you further. I could watch the hope leave your eyes as you are helpless to save at least one living creature. No matter, you can still die knowing that the horse's death is on your head."

"His name," James tried to keep calm, "is Joey."

Samuel rolled his eyes. "Like I care."

He raised the gun to James' head, the cold nozzle digging into his forehead as his heart pounded wildly.

Samuel drew his lip back into a snarl. "Captain James Nicholls, I will enjoy killing you." James heard him draw back the firing mechanism, the click loud in his ears. James looked into his former friend's eyes, daring him to pull the trigger.

Samuel grinned.


End file.
